


maybe we could

by Stjosten



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alcohol, Andrew is a smitten fool, Andrew only cares about his thesis, College AU, First Kiss, Getting Together, Kinda Meet Cute, M/M, Neil is a math nerd, Pining, we may never know, why do I keep comparing Neil to a candied apple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:46:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25789810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stjosten/pseuds/Stjosten
Summary: Andrew is just trying to get through his last year of undergrad. He’s overwhelmed with tests, grad school applications, an internship at the county courthouse, and a thesis that he hasn’t even started yet. Everything goes downhill in one fell swoop and obviously it’s all Nicky’s fault.Or a college au where Andrew is just trying to get his shit together, Nicky constantly invites chaos, and Neil is a candy covered apple that’s far too tempting to ignore and is definitely going to rot Andrew’s teeth out
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 69
Kudos: 532





	maybe we could

**Author's Note:**

> I put a bunch of polls on twitter and let everyone over there vote on the fic they wanted. All the way down to the tropes and Neil and Andrew's majors. This is what they created! 
> 
> Also big shout out to Nightquills for reading this before I posted! You're the best! :')

When Nicky said the words, “I’m throwing a small party tonight.” Andrew should have known that the word small was not in Nicky’s vocabulary. He never did anything without completely blowing it out of proportion. Throwing a party wouldn’t be an exception. 

Andrew allowed himself to be blissfully ignorant to the entire plan. He had a test on Tuesday and another on Wednesday, and then a paper due on Thursday and a meeting with his advisor on Friday about his thesis. There were more important things on his mind than wondering if Nicky was planning on destroying their house in the largest off-campus party of the year. Which, now that he thinks about it, was something that he definitely should have been worried about. Hindsight is 20/20.

By 11 pm their entire house is swarming with people. Aaron, who’s pre-med and _should know better_ is two sheets to the wind and couldn’t give a shit less about the mess of people in their house and backyard. Kevin is just as drunk if not more and is not helping the situation by trying to get _more_ people drunk. Nicky is being Nicky, mooning over the attractive strangers in their living room, ushering people away from their stairs so they can’t sneak up and have sex in one of their bedrooms, and mixing drinks with enough alcohol to sedate a horse. 

Andrew came downstairs for a glass of water about thirty seconds ago to find what looked like half of campus in his living room. He had been wearing his noise cancelling headphones, blasting loud senseless music, and hiding out in his bedroom to work on his paper, which is probably how he hadn’t noticed the influx of people in their house.

If this was Nicky’s idea of a _small_ party, Andrew didn’t want to see what a _large_ party would look like.

He really didn’t want to be stuck in a throng of drunken college students but he really _was_ in need of a smoke break and a glass of water, so he puffed out his shoulders and nudged his way through the crowd so he could get to the kitchen. 

It’s just as crowded but it seems to be all of the usual suspects. Nicky is by the counter mixing drinks. Allison Reynolds is sitting on the table with Dan Wilds and Renee Walker beside her. Matt Boyd is leaning on the fridge with Seth Gordon standing next to him. None of them notice Andrew walking into the kitchen. Well, all of them but one. 

Andrew has never seen him before. He’s sitting on the counter beside Nicky, looking out of place amongst the well dressed group. His sweater is big enough to fit two people comfortably and his jeans are ripped to shit and it doesn’t look intentional. Andrew’s first thought is that he’s a sad looking kid, his second is _Jesus christ he’s pretty_. 

A very, very dangerous thought to have about a complete stranger. Especially one that’s been drinking. 

He is the only one that looks at Andrew as soon as he’s in the doorway to the kitchen. His eyes are bluer than the cloudless summer sky over South Carolina and his hair is the color of blood or maybe the color of a bleeding sunset, or maybe—-

Andrew stops himself. _Get it together._

“Andrew!” Nicky yells, when he finally turns to catch sight of Andrew. He’s grinning like a mad man and his eyes are bright. Definitely drunk. Definitely annoying. 

“Nicky,” Andrew tries to say calmly but his voice is being washed away with the tide of party sounds; loud thrumming music and echoing shouts from the living room. 

It doesn’t matter if they can hear him or not, Nicky steps away from the counter and his collection of alcohol and mixers and tries to wave Andrew over. 

“Neil here doesn’t drink,” Nicky yells over the music, “Come here and make him one of your mocktails. It’s sacrilegious for me to make a drink that doesn’t have any alcohol.” 

Neil, the bright eyed stranger, looks embarrassed. He flushes a pretty shade of red and his lower lip puffs out in a pout. Andrew is taken with him, which is bullshit, because Andrew doesn’t like to be _taken_ with anybody, especially not pretty strangers on the counter in his kitchen.

Unfortunately for Andrew, he’s very pretty and Andrew has always been a sucker for pretty things. 

“Just suck it up and make him a drink, Nicky,” Andrew says over the loud music. He doesn’t dare yell, he just pronounces every word with purpose like Wymack, his internship boss, taught him. 

“It’s really okay,” Neil says, “I’ll just drink water.” 

Nicky starts complaining and Allison butts in, something about _let loose for once, Neil_ and _what kind of college student doesn’t drink_. Andrew ignores them in favor of pushing Matt away from the fridge with a firm elbow to his side. Matt laughs it off and moves, ducking out of the way when Andrew tries to open the door into him.

“I’m just saying,” Allison is yelling over the music and Andrew is finding her voice to be more fucking shrill than it usually sounds, “Maybe if you loosened up a bit-“ 

Neil doesn’t let her finish. “Just let it go, Allison.” 

“I just want you to have fun for once.” 

“I can have fun without getting shit faced.” 

Andrew grabs a bottle of water and then another and slams the fridge door hard enough to knock something inside off it’s shelf. It probably wasn’t loud enough to gain anyone’s attention, but Andrew suspects Neil will notice. 

He does. Neil’s eyes immediately flash over to Andrew. He looks startled, maybe a bit uncomfortable with the sudden movement. Andrew doesn’t really care either way. He steps forward and places one bottle of water onto the counter beside him. 

“I will pay you to make both Renee and Neil a mocktail,” Nicky offers. Andrew gives him a quizzical look and Nicky elaborates with, “I can pay in booze.” 

Andrew suspects that if he walks into any room in this house there will be alcohol free for the taking. 

It’s a good excuse to say no. Another excuse would be that he has a paper to finish and a test to study for and a whole lot of not thinking about the lean stranger with pretty blue eyes just one floor down from him.

In the end the choice seems rather clear. Andrew pushes Nicky out of the way and drops his bottle of water onto the counter just out of reach.

He turns to Renee and snaps a finger to get her attention. Renee smiles sickly sweet, just like always, and leans forward, signing _what?_ at him.

Andrew signs _as usual_ because it’s the closest he can get to asking if she wants her usual mocktail. Renee smiles and signs _yes_. Allison rolls her eyes at them and starts leaning more heavily on Renee’s shoulder. 

Andrew turns back around and ignores the curious look on Neil’s face. He grabs the orange juice that’s already half empty and the bottle of grenadine that has been put to little to no use and mixes together the quickest tequila sunrise, minus the tequila, that he can manage. When he’s done he hands it off to Renee who signs _thank you_. 

“What is it?” Neil asks, leaning into Andrew’s space. Usually Andrew would immediately lean away; closeness was a privilege that he has given very, very few. Neil should be no different, but he kind of smells nice and is overwhelmingly warm and Andrew finds himself leaning towards him instead of away. 

_Fuck_. 

He should have gone back to studying.

“A tequila sunrise,” Andrew replies. He doesn’t have to yell when they’re leaning so close together. In fact, they’re so close together that Andrew can make out the individual eyelashes framing the blue, which just so happens to be the same red as his hair. 

“Without the tequila?” Neil asks with a smile that’s just a touch cheeky. 

“Obviously,” Andrew replies. 

Andrew can hear Nicky yelling about something or other but he ignores him in favor of keeping his eyes on Neil and his hands on the edge of the counter. 

He doesn’t bother asking if Neil wants a drink, he starts making the second tequila sunrise, minus the tequila, with the same practiced ease that did when he worked at Eden’s. He hands it off to Neil and presses his hip against the counter so he can watch his reaction. 

Neil takes one sip, smacks his lips, and pulls a face that says he really doesn’t enjoy the drink in the slightest. 

It’s sort of cute. 

“Not a fan?” Andrew asks, a bit amused. 

“It’s sweet,” Neil offers, but he takes another sip and shrugs, “But I like orange juice.” 

“You could have asked for orange juice,” Andrew said, “The grenadine is what makes it sweet.” 

Neil shrugs again, like his discomfort isn’t a big deal. He’s probably the type of person that won’t complain at a restaurant if they give him the wrong order. Andrew isn’t sure if it’s because he hates being rude or if he just doesn’t care enough to ask for something he wants.

Andrew looks back around the kitchen only to find it empty, which is not entirely surprising. Nicky and his friends tend to share the same attention span as a goldfish when they’re intoxicated. There’s more yelling from the living room. Andrew should probably go check on that, maybe that’s where the others went, but he stays firmly pressed against the counter, Neil kicking his legs back and forth beside him.

“So—- you’re Nicky’s cousin,” Neil says casually.

Andrew nods. 

“That must be fun,” Neil comments, but he’s smiling like he said it teasingly, like he knows. 

“It’s thrilling,” Andrew deadpans, “A real blast.” 

Neil smirks and looks away, drinking more of the too sweet sunrise and pursing his lips like the drink physically hurts him. It’s just as endearing as it is annoying. Andrew takes the glass from Neil’s hand and dumps it out into the sink, replacing it with some orange juice before handing it back. 

Neil doesn’t comment, doesn’t say thank you, just takes the orange juice and quietly takes a sip. This time he doesn’t cringe. 

“Are you friends with Renee?” Neil asks.

“No,” Andrew says honestly. He knows Renee, spends time with her in between classes. Sometimes they study together in the library and they spent two semesters taking ASL 101 and 102 together. Andrew tolerates her just a bit more than he does everyone else. 

“You don’t talk much, do you?” Neil asks lightly.

“Nope,” Andrew says, “Bored yet?” 

“Hardly.” Neil’s still smiling but it curves a bit sharper than it had before. A dangerous, glinting smile that shines like a sharpened knife. 

Pretty _and_ interesting, a dangerous combination. Especially for someone like Andrew. 

“Why are you here if you don’t drink?” Andrew asks. 

Neil shrugs. “I live with Matt and Seth, they sort of drag me around with them when I’m not busy. Apparently working on Algebraic Topology homework doesn’t count as busy.”

“You’re a math major,” Andrew deadpans.

Neil nods. 

“Seriously?” 

“Yeah,” Neil says with a small laugh, “Is that a problem?” 

“There must be something wrong with you if you enjoy math,” Andrew says, “No reasonable person likes math.” 

“No one _likes_ math,” Neil retorts, “Doesn't mean it isn’t fun. There are never ending problems to solve. Keeps it interesting.” 

“Nothing about that sounds interesting,” Andrew replies, “Are you sure there isn’t something wrong with you?” 

Neil laughs and his cheeks turn a pretty shade of red and darkens his skin just a touch and it’s _cute_. Really fucking cute. 

“Well what about you?” Neil asks, “Since you’re acting so superior. What’s your major? Surely it isn’t anything as ridiculous as math.” 

Andrew opens his mouth to reply just as the yelling from the living room reaches a volume that is far too loud to be regular party cheers. The music stops abruptly and Andrew hears a booming voice say, “Everybody _out_!” 

“Oh shit,” Neil lets out, “I think someone called the cops.” 

_Just fucking great._. 

If there is anything Andrew hates with a burning passion, and he hates a lot of things, it would be cops. 

“You should probably dip,” Andrew tells him, “Just in case they try to take people in.” 

Neil nods and jumps off the counter. He’s only a few inches taller than Andrew and is somehow more lean when he’s standing than when he was curled in on himself on the counter. 

“Will you be okay?” Neil asks. 

“I’ll be fine,” Andrew says. He pointedly ignores how his heart jumps at Neil’s words. “You better get going. You can leave through the back.” 

“I can’t leave without Seth and Matt,” Neil says, “They wouldn’t leave without me?” 

Andrew wants to argue and tell him to just fucking leave, but he keeps his mouth in a tight thin line and ushers Neil out of the kitchen and into the living room.

The entire house is in chaos, there are people scrambling to run past the two cops that are blocking the door. Most slip free because there are too many to hold back., Andrew sort of suspects that they don’t care about catching anyone, it’s usually about the home owners than the attendees. 

Andrew crosses his arms and searches around the room for Seth or Matt. They aren’t hard to spot in the crowd, both are giants and both have equally tall hair. He can see them searching around the crowd as well, shoving their way past so they can head towards the kitchen. Andrew raises his fingers to his lips and whistles, causing half of the room to freeze and immediately turn in his direction. 

Matt and Seth catch sight of them and push through the crowd and go straight to Neil. 

Andrew doesn’t turn to watch them leave. He keeps his eyes trained on the cops in front of him. He knows one of them. Has run into him more times than Andrew would care to admit, at the courthouse for his internship and twice for speeding tickets. 

Higgins gives him a hard look and walks across the room, leaving the door open for the rest of the bodies to quickly filter out. His partner doesn’t try to stop them. 

“Andrew,” Higgins says, coming to a stop in front of him.

“Higgins,” Andrew replies, biting back the _pig_ that usually accompanied his name. 

“Want to tell me why you’re supplying alcohol to a bunch of minors?” Higgins asks, all business. 

“Did you check their IDs?” Andrew asks. He keeps himself calm and steady, unwavering. It’s easier this way, keeps him in control.

“You know we didn’t,” Higgins replies with a sigh. 

“Then how the fuck do you know they’re minors?” Andrew asks. Nicky chooses that moment to barrel down the stairs and into the living room. His face is clearly wet from tears, his eyes are puffy and red. He always turns into a cry baby when he’s drunk. 

“I’m so sorry, officers,” Nicky hiccups, “Everyone is leaving and we’ll be quiet, okay?” 

Higgins spares Nicky a glance and then looks back at Andrew. He looks vaguely annoyed but doesn’t try to push them about minors drinking at their party. Andrew’s already won that battle. 

“This is an official warning,” Higgins says, “I don’t want to have to come out here again. Next time I’ll notify the school.” 

“Yeah whatever, Higgins,” Andrew replies, “Have a nice night. Get out of my house.” 

Higgins leaves but not before throwing a glare over his shoulder in Andrew’s direction. As soon as the door is closed and they’re alone again Nicky is crying like Higgins _did_ give them a ticket. 

“Holy _shit,_ that was really close,” Nicky exclaims, “How are you so calm?” 

Andrew shrugs and walks over to the door and turns the locks. When he turns back around he sees that Neil, Matt and Seth are still standing in the doorway to the kitchen.

“I told you to leave,” Andrew says with just a bit too much bite. 

Neil doesn’t even blink. He shrugs it off and stands up straight. 

“We’ll go,” Neil says, “Just wanted to make sure you would be alright.” 

“I can handle a few cops,” Andrew says.

Neil looks amused. “Clearly.” 

Andrew unlocks the door and holds it open for them. “Goodbye.”

Seth and Matt leave the house but Neil lingers for a second. He gives Andrew an assessing look. The sort of look that Neil probably makes when he’s solving a particularly hard math problem. Andrew really doesn’t want to think about the implications. 

Neil seems to come to some sort of solution because he smiles, tilts his head, says, “Bye, Drew!” And is gone before Andrew could give him shit for giving him such a stupid nickname. 

Andrew slams the door shut, locks it, turns to Nicky, who is still crying, and asks, “Where are Kevin and Aaron?” 

“Passed out upstairs,” Nicky says, “I brought them up as soon as the cops arrived.”

That was probably a good thing. They aren’t under age but Kevin is a familiar face to most cops in the area; his dad is the public defender in the county courthouse. He gets on with cops about as well as Andrew does. 

“We need to clean,” Nicky says sadly, looking around the mess in the living room. 

“ _You_ need to clean,” Andrew clarifies. He turns and heads up the stairs to his bedroom, ignoring Nicky yelling his name behind him. 

He has an essay to write and blue eyes to forget about. 

*

The problem with Andrew’s memory is that he can’t simply forget something and apparently he really can’t forget about Neil. 

He’s like a particularly pesky piece of lint or a sticky spider web. The image of Neil is permanently burned into Andrew’s mind, flushed cheeks, blue eyes, and a curving smile just sharp enough to cut something. It’s a bit rude really. Andrew didn’t ask for this. 

The top floor of the library is almost always empty. Andrew isn’t a fan of libraries but he needs to study and maybe start working on his thesis so he goes up to the third floor of the campus library and sits at a secluded table in the back.

The quiet lasts about an hour and then Neil, _fucking Neil_ , is dropping a pile of boring math books onto the table in front of him and taking a seat like he owns the place. Andrew sends him a glare and lifts a finger to his mouth to signal him to be quiet. Neil shrugs, unaffected by Andrew’s attitude and opens his books so he can start working. 

It’s distracting. Distracting because Andrew was just trying to get work done in the _always_ empty third floor of the library, but here comes Neil, inserting himself into the equation like a new variable. Andrew has never been a fan of math and Neil is a problem that he doesn’t think he can solve. 

He doesn’t get much more work done after that. He stares at his paper and occasionally sneaks looks up at Neil. He’s cute when he’s working, his tongue is peeking out of his mouth, looking like a red cherry that Andrew wouldn’t mind tasting. His eyebrows are furrowed and his eyes are narrowed as he looks over his work, making notes, and then scratching away at problems. 

It’s unfair, like most things in Andrew’s life. He’s in the middle of finishing his last year of undergrad, he has tests to study for and papers to write, a thesis to finish, an internship with a surly asshole that he needs to power through, and graduate school applications to finish. He doesn’t have time for distractions. Especially not a distraction like Neil. 

Andrew opens and closes his notes, rereads his work, and then pulls out his computer to start outlining his thesis. He’s halfway through when Neil closes his textbook and leans back in his chair. 

“Are you done yet?” Neil asks quietly. 

“Do I look done?” 

Neil shrugs. “I’m hungry.” 

“And?” Andrew doesn’t like where this is going. He _knows_ where this is going and he _knows_ he won’t say no to Neil. 

Neil hums. “It’s lunch time.” 

Andrew checks the time on his laptop and frowns. “So it seems.” 

“So— you must also be hungry,” Neil offers with a smile.

Andrew is a helpless fool. 

“Maybe,” He says, trying to be non-committal.

“Do you want to get lunch?” Neil asks, and then unnecessarily adds, “With me.” 

“No. I think I’ll get lunch with the other red-head on campus,” Andrew says before he can stop himself. Actually the only other red-head on campus is Katelyn and as much as Andrew tolerates her, he wouldn’t want to have a one on one lunch. 

“I bet they’re better company than I am,” Neil teases. He doesn’t take Andrew’s rejection seriously. It’s infuriating. 

“I doubt that,” Andrew says too quickly, because really he would take Neil over Katelyn any day, which is a scary thought in and of itself because he shouldn’t want to choose Neil over _anyone_. He still has to finish outlining his thesis, and he has a test next week, and Wymack has old cases that Andrew still hasn’t sorted through. There is too much to do and very little time to be so easily distracted.

“Is that a yes then?” Neil asks. He’s flushing red again. It’s so fucking _cute_. Andrew hates that expression more than anything.

He should say, _I’m busy_ or _I need to finish this_ or _leave me the fuck alone_.

Instead he closes his laptop, puts everything away into his bag and stands up.

“Fine,” Andrew says.

Neil doesn’t move.

“I said fine,” Andrew repeats, “Let’s go.” 

“That isn’t a _yes_ ,” Neil comments, unperturbed.

He’s really trying to test Andrew’s patience today. 

“Yes,” Andrew finally says, “Now let's go.” 

Neil smirks, packs up his bag, stands up, and follows Andrew out of the library. They fall into step together and Neil is far too bright to look at under the afternoon sun, so Andrew looks away.

*

Andrew doesn’t really know what a developing relationship looks like, but he assumes that it probably looks something like this. 

Neil is spread out on Andrew’s bed with his math textbook opened in front of him and a stack of worksheets nestled in his notebook. Andrew is sitting at his desk, as far away from the bed as possible, trying to finish outlining his thesis, but keeps getting distracted because Neil looks _soft_ in nothing but a tiny pair of running shorts and an oversized sweater, laid out on his bed like he belongs there. 

It really shouldn’t have happened. Neil shouldn’t have managed to wiggle his way into Andrew’s life, but here he is, warm and sweet, his hair sticking up in all directions, and his tongue peeking through his red lips. 

Disgustingly attractive. That’s the best way to describe Neil Josten. He doesn’t even know it either, he just glides through his life without ever noticing or caring about the looks of hunger that always inevitably find him when they’re out walking together on campus. 

Neil is a candied apple. One that is far too tempting for Andrew to refuse and is definitely going to end up rotting Andrew’s teeth out. 

“Do you know anything about applied mathematics?” Neil asks, sounding distracted. He’s still looking over his textbook, flipping through the pages and then flipping back again. 

“Absolutely not,” Andrew replies, “Who do you think I am?” 

“What is your major anyway?” Neil asks.

Andrew’s phone buzzes before he has a chance to answer. A text from Wymack greets him. 

_Just heard you had a run in with the cops because of a stupid party. Are you trying to make me look bad?_

Andrew groans. He knew that it would eventually come back to bite him in the ass. It definitely wasn’t Kevin that told Wymack— he wasn’t the type to share that sort of information with his dad, especially not if there will be an inevitable lecture. Wymack loves giving lectures. Which means it was Higgins. He tattled on Andrew like an elementary school student. Fucking cops. 

_I wouldn’t dare. You do that well enough yourself._ Andrew sends back, because he’s annoyed. 

“Andrew,” Neil complains, drawing his name out in a whine, “What are you doing?” 

“Outlining my thesis,” Andrew replies, “I told you.” 

“Right,” Neil says, he shuffles onto his elbows and watches Andrew with keen eyes, “What’s it about?” 

“Social inequality in the justice system,” Andrew says passingly. His phone goes off again. Wymack sent him a middle finger emoji. Andrew sends one back. 

“Oh, are you a criminal justice major?” Neil asks. 

Andrew sighs. “Yes, Neil. I am.” 

“Huh,” Neil comments, and then looks down at his textbook. 

“What?” Andrew asks. He drops his phone onto his desk and swerves in his chair so he can face Neil. 

“Nothing,” Neil says with an air that suggests that it is not nothing.

“Neil,” Andrew warns.

“It’s just ironic,” Neil offers, he looks up from his book and gives Andrew that dangerous smirk that always sends a spike of heat to Andrew’s groin, “Cops showed up at your raging party where there were drunk minors and you’re a criminal justice major.” 

“Are criminal justice majors held to a higher moral standard than everyone else?” Andrew asks. Neil shrugs. “I find it ironic that you were at a party at all and you’re a math major. A nerdy math major.”

Neil laughs and it sounds so _good_ and Andrew _hates_ it so much. 

“I’m not a nerd,” Neil replies with a smile. 

“Could have fooled me,” Andrew says, “Didn’t you tell me that _math_ is _fun_?” 

“It _is_ ,” Neil says petulant, “Only really smart people can find it fun.” 

“Such a big ego,” Andrew comments. Neil laughs again and then drops his face into his textbook. “Don’t you have work to finish?” Andrew scolds.

Neil groans and sits up, crossing his legs and making himself comfortable on _Andrew’s_ bed, like it’s _his_ bed. Andrew sighs and turns away from him. 

They could maybe be something like friends if Andrew put in a little bit more effort. 

_Friends_.

It sounds disgusting even just bouncing around his own head. Andrew doesn’t _have_ friends. He has people he tolerates, people that he has on a sliding scale of how much they piss him off. Neil should be somewhere in the red area because he manages to make Andrew not only hate _him_ but hate himself for _not_ hating him that much. Instead Neil is sitting higher than any person in his life currently. Even his own family. 

It would be easier if it was just physical attraction. Maybe if they fucked, Andrew could move on. He looks over his shoulder and catches sight of Neil again. He’s tapping his blue mechanical pencil against the side of his cheek, his eyes narrowed as he looks over his work. 

The issue is that as much as Andrew wouldn’t mind having Neil underneath him, or even on top of him, he knows that it wouldn’t be enough. Andrew has an addictive personality. One taste of Neil would have Andrew craving _more_. There would be no satisfaction. That’s the real problem. It _isn’t_ just physical. 

Andrew likes the way Neil ties his hair back with a folded up bandana. Andrew likes how Neil doesn’t take anyone’s shit, not even Andrew’s. Andrew likes how he sticks his tongue out when he’s concentrating and how his eyes narrow when he’s trying to solve a particularly hard problem. Andrew even likes how Neil sends choppy, almost incoherent text messages. It’s endearing. 

Andrew maybe, kind of, sort of, probably likes Neil. 

And isn’t that a big fucking problem.

*

Andrew gets back from his internship to find Nicky, Kevin, and Neil sprawled out on the couches in their living room. Wymack sent him home with a bag of leftovers that his wife Abby had put together for them. It’s enough food to feed everyone in the house twice over. Andrew doesn’t comment on Neil’s sudden appearance in his house uninvited. He walks into the kitchen and drops the bag of food on the counter. 

He isn’t surprised when Neil saddles up onto the counter and starts kicking his legs back and forth, his hands tucked under his thighs and his eyes bright.

“How was work?” Neil asks casually. 

It feels far too domestic. 

Andrew aggressively rips the paper bag open and pulls out tupperware containers of food, stacking them up on the counter so he can start warming them up.

“It was fine,” Andrew says shortly. He turns and heads to the doorway of the living room and sticks his head in. Kevin and Nicky haven’t moved an inch, still laid out on the couch with something mindless playing on TV. Typical. 

“Food?” Andrew asks.

“Oh my god yes,” Nicky says, “Food.” 

“What is it?” Kevin asks, “I’m on a strict diet because of—” 

Andrew cuts him off. “It’s from Abby. I’m sure she knows.” 

Kevin nods, pleased and then turns back to the TV. “Good. I’ll eat.” 

“Great,” Andrew deadpans, “Where is Aaron?” 

“Katelyn’s,” Nicky says, “He won’t be home tonight.” 

Andrew nods and turns back into the kitchen. Neil is still perched where Andrew left him. He’s picking at the edge of his fraying sweatshirt, without thinking Andrew reaches out and pushes his hands away. 

“Hungry?” Andrew asks. He might as well feed Neil since he’s here. It’s a matter of convenience, nothing special. 

“Sure,” Neil says. He swings his legs, looks like he wants to say something but doesn’t say anything. 

Andrew starts unpacking food and turns on the oven to heat it all up. They don’t own a microwave anymore. It broke last semester and all of them were both too poor and too lazy to buy a new one. 

Neil keeps kicking his legs. He keeps watching Andrew move around the kitchen. Andrew feels something bubble like hot water in a kettle in his stomach. He tries to push it down and focus on the task at hand. As soon as the food is out of the tupperware and into the oven to warm up he’s out of things that could preoccupy his attention.

He spares a glance towards Neil. He’s already watching him, his gaze unwavering. 

It’s been over a month since they were in the same exact position in Andrew’s kitchen. There is a serious lack of yelling, party music, and strangers in the living room, but it still feels the same. Andrew’s warm all over, Neil looks soft and sweet with his cheeks flushed a light red color. 

“What’s wrong?” Neil asks. 

Andrew takes a step forward. Thinks, _I shouldn’t do this_. Thinks, _I have too much going on._ But it’s been _months_ and Neil hasn’t left yet. He sticks around for some fucking reason that Andrew can’t comprehend.

He listens to Andrew ranting about his thesis, about his professors, about his tests and essays, and his internship. He lays out on Andrew’s bed, his couch, his floor, the passenger seat of his car, like he owns it. Like he belongs in those places that Andrew has never really shared with anyone before. 

Andrew takes another step forward. 

“I’m going to kiss you,” Andrew warns. 

Neil’s eyes widen and for a split second Andrew thinks he might have made a huge mistake, misread the entire situation, but then Neil is nodding fervently and Andrew realizes that it wasn’t a mistake at all. 

Andrew takes one final step forward. Neil makes room for him, opens his legs, tucks his hands under his thighs, keeps his eyes trained on Andrew. 

Andrew kisses him. 

Surprisingly, Neil doesn’t taste like a candy apple. Unsurprisingly, Andrew finds himself immediately addicted anyway.

Andrew wraps his hands around Neil’s waist and then slides them up to rest around Neil’s ribcage. He squeezes lightly and Neil hums into his mouth. 

Andrew is a quick study. He learns that if he captures Neil’s bottom lip between his teeth he can make Neil moan and if he squeezes him in just the right spot, Neil will hum and lean closer. It’s a study in call and response and Andrew is nothing if not a weak fool for everything Neil, his quiet noises when he’s kissed are no exception. 

The timer on the oven beeps and Andrew pulls back. If he thought Neil was pretty before it’s nothing compared to the look he’s sporting right now. Cheeks flushed, pupils blown, and his lips kiss-swollen and wet. 

“Wow,” Neil breaths out and Andrew can’t help but snort. 

“Mind blowing?” Andrew asks. 

“Now who has a big ego?” 

Andrew spares him one last peck on the lips before pulling away and turning the stove off. 

They eat on the couches in the living room with a random show about house hunting playing in the background. When they’re done Andrew and Neil excuse themselves, discard their plates in the sink, and head back to Andrew’s room. 

They spend the rest of the night kissing on Andrew’s bed. Homework and papers and thesis projects be damned. Neil is responsive and soft under Andrew’s hands and he may not taste as sweet as a candied Apple, but he’s just as addictive. 

*

By the end of the semester Andrew is pretty much stuck with Neil. Not that he’s complaining. He can’t seem to get enough of him anyway. They spend their free time holed up in Andrew’s bedroom or hiding on the third floor of the library. Andrew finally finishes his thesis outline and passes all of his tests and essays. His grades don’t suffer from the addition of Neil in his life, so Andrew decides that it’s probably not necessarily a bad thing. 

They aren’t _dating,_ but there isn’t anyone else. Andrew knows this because Neil still can’t seem to notice when someone is flirting with him. Andrew doesn’t _flirt,_ but he kisses Neil senseless when they’re alone and sometimes he reaches out and casually touches Neil when they’re in public. Andrew thinks it’s more than enough.

They’re currently in the living room of Andrew’s house. They rarely go to Neil’s dorm because Seth or Matt are always present and they hover like overbearing parents. Neil is laying against the arm of the couch, his legs curled up underneath him. Andrew is sitting cross-legged and checking his email. His advisor was supposed to send him a message about his thesis outline. The semester ended three days ago and he still hasn’t received anything back. 

He’s a bit frustrated, refreshing his school email over and over and hoping that something would come through sooner rather than later. Neil nudges him in the side with his foot. Andrew hums but doesn’t look up. Maybe his email didn’t send. He opens his sent box and looks for the email. Nope, definitely sent. Andrew is just about to start typing out a scathing follow up email when Neil hits him in the side again with his foot. 

“What?” Andrew says harshly, not bothering to look up from his phone. He doesn’t have the wherewithal to wait until next semester to get feedback on this stupid outline. He wants it to be done and over with.

“What are we?” Neil asks suddenly. 

Andrew stops typing and looks over to Neil. He’s watching him with hopeful, bright eyes. Andrew stares and stares and stares until the words register.

“I’m sorry—” Andrew starts, shaking his head, “What?” 

“What _are_ we?” Neil asks again, “You know—” His voice peters out and then he vaguely waves his hand between them.

Thank fuck Andrew has a Neil translator permenantly installed in his brain, otherwise he would be very confused.

“Are you asking if we’re boyfriends or something?” Andrew asks, sort of surprised. Neil has never brought it up before, so Andrew has never brought it up before. 

“I guess,” Neil says, shrugging, “I’m just curious. Matt asked and I didn’t know what to tell him.” 

“Casually hooking up wasn’t a good enough answer for him?” Andrew asks. 

Neil sighs and once again nudges Andrew in the side with his foot. Andrew reaches out and grabs his ankles so he can’t kick him again. 

“I didn’t tell him that because it’s more than that,” Neil says, “Right?” 

Yeah, probably. Yeah, absolutely. It’s more than that. Way more than that. Andrew knew months ago that it was more than that. Neil is like a really hard to kill houseplant or a cockroach. He’s good at staying alive and even better at staying important. Even if that weren’t true, Andrew would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy having Neil around. He probably would have chosen him anyway. 

Andrew isn’t very good with words. Luckily Neil _also_ has a permanent Andrew translator installed in his brain. 

Andrew squeezes his ankle. Says, “Do you want to be?” 

Neil gives him the sharp smile Andrew adores so much. “Want to be what?” 

“You’re going to make me say it?” Andrew asks. 

Neil just keeps smiling. “Maybe.” 

“Nevermind,” Andrew says, he releases Neil’s foot and stands from the couch, “I have lost all interest.” 

“Aw,” Neil coos from the couch. “Wait, come back!” 

“Nope,” Andrew says, knowing full well that Neil won’t let him go. He takes a step away but Neil is there, as predicted. He grips the back of Andrew’s shirt and pulls him to a stop. 

“I was teasing,” Neil says with a pout. Andrew wiggles out of his grip, turns around, and pushes Neil back into the couch. He settles between Neil’s legs, a spot that he likes to fall back into again and again and again. Neil makes room for him just like he always does and then reaches out to wrap his arms around Andrew’s neck.

“You’re not angry, right?” Neil asks. Andrew sighs.

“No, I’m not angry.” 

“So you wouldn’t mind if I tell people we’re dating?” Neil asks. 

Andrew groans. “Fucking fine, Neil.” 

Neil smiles and pulls Andrew down so he can kiss the tip of his nose like a love sick puppy. Andrew lets out an exasperated sigh against Neil’s cheek. 

“Boyfriends?” Neil asks. 

Andrew presses his face into the curve of Neil’s neck. 

“Yeah. Boyfriends.” 

Neil laughs happily and Andrew kisses him quiet.

He’ll have to worry about his thesis tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [Tumblr](http://stjosten.tumblr.com) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/stjosten).


End file.
